50 Shades of Neville and Hermione
by KatyRose4
Summary: Neville and Hermione would make a brilliant couple. If you're not convinced, here's a collection of short stories to (hopefully) change your mind.
1. The Return of Rita Skeeter

_Author's Note: These stories are based on fifty one-word prompts. They are all one-shots and are not related to each other. _

**Alcoholic– Why that 2014 Daily Prophet article suggests that Neville is a heavy drinker (featuring a tipsy Rita Skeeter)**

"Oh my gosh, I completely forgot about this!" Hermione said. She was sitting at the desk, rifling through some papers, when she came across an old copy of the Daily Prophet.

"What is it?" Neville put down the box he was looking through and went over to her. He peered over her shoulder to see what she was reading: an article by Rita Skeeter about the members of the DA at the 2014 Quidditch Cup. Like most of her work, considering it inaccurate was an understatement. Hermione had to hold back a few laughs; she had forgotten how ridiculous Skeeter could be sometimes.

"'I _toyed _with the young Potter's _affections _before being _seduced away!_" she recited in an over dramatic voice, before bursting into laughter. She continued reading, but silently. Ignoring that ridiculous gossip, Skeeter had actually said some nice things about her. _Probably still scared of me, _Hermione thought.

Then it was Neville's bit next; she was very excited about it. "And here you are," she said. "'Idle gossip suggests that he enjoys a little more Ogden's Old Firewhiskey than most of us would expect from custodians of our children...' What?"

"Well you know that's not true," Neville said.

"Of course it isn't. This is the Daily Prophet and _Rita Skeeter_ we're talking about. But how on Earth could she come to that conclusion?"

Neville smiled. "I have a guess. Remember that time at the Leaky Cauldron? And she was giving me a hard time?"

"Oh...right. She's awful, that woman."

"It's kind of funny when you look back on it."

* * *

_Several years ago_

The incident happened back when Neville was an Auror and he lived above the Leaky Cauldron with Hannah. He was sitting at the counter, drinking firewhiskey straight from the bottle. Hannah had hung around for a bit, but then she had to go to the backroom. There was some problem with the inventory. But Neville didn't necessarily mind being alone for awhile. He had recently come back from a stressful assignment, and he was due to leave again in only a few days. _Barely in my mid-twenties and I already feel old, _he thought to himself. _Is this what my parents thought…? I don't even know why I'm doing this any–_

"Neville Longbottom!" The woman who greeted him was a total stranger. This had never happened before, and it did nothing to improve his bad mood. As long as your last name wasn't Potter, Granger, or Weasley, you were supposed to be safe from that kind of publicity. Apparently not.

"Uh...do I know you?"

"Oh yes, I suppose it has been awhile." That statement was usually coined by family friends and distant relatives. But he still didn't recognize her, and he had a good feeling she wasn't either. "I only saw you once, your fourth year of Hogwarts." She took a sip of her drink and stuck her hand out. "Rita Skeeter, _Daily Prophet._" He (begrudgingly) shook her hand. He didn't have the heart to tell her how much he loathed that sorry excuse of a 'newspaper.' "I've heard so much, but I've never gotten to meet you in person!"

And for good reason. Her name had sounded oddly familiar, and Neville realized it was because Hermione had warned him about her. He had never really followed the _Prophet, _but Hermione had told him horror stories of how Rita had slandered her, Harry, and Hagrid. Despicable. So Neville wanted nothing to do with her. "Well it was nice chatting with you…"

"An entire bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky? That's quite strong."

"I'm not drinking all of it."

"Of course not." She didn't sound like she believed him. She put her own glass to her lips and raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "But that's a bit much for a work night, isn't it?" Hermione was right– Rita Skeeter was annoying. And a tipsy Rita was even worse.

"I'm off duty." Maybe if he was vague she'd find him boring and leave him alone.

"I highly doubt that." Well at least she was being honest. "Oh come now, Mr. Longbottom. Let's talk about your little problem." Neville frowned. It was like talking to a wall. She took out a quick-quotes quill and some parchment from her purse. It was already writing mid-air. "The readers of the Daily Prophet would love to hear–"

"I don't have a problem, and I'm not telling you anything," he said, raising his voice. "Goodnight." He stood up to leave.

"Neville?" Hermione had apparently just entered the bar and she started walking towards them. Her eyes immediately darted to the parchment and quill. "What's going on here?"

"Nothing," Rita said innocently. "Neville and I are just having a little chat."

"You sure about that?" She pursed her lips and glared at Rita; Neville knew that crossing her meant certain death. "Because if this is an interview for an article, I can march right down to the Ministry and–"

"I'm not scared of you anymore," Rita said. "I'm a reporter, and I'm just doing my job."

Hermione turned to Neville. "Did you consent to this interview?"

"Now why would I do that?" he answered. "She's crazy."

"Pushy," Rita corrected.

"I can't stop you from writing articles," Hermione said. "But I can stop you from publishing this one." Before Rita could even understand what was going on, Hermione walked up the parchment and ripped it in half. The headline read, _**Neville Longbottom– Alcoholic? **_And he was immensely grateful that the article wouldn't be published.

Rita huffed and stormed off. Neville breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Hermione. I normally like to handle these things myself, but she is just..."

"The absolute worst."

"Yes, exactly."

"Hi Neville, I'm back." Hannah appeared behind the counter. "And Hermione! What can I get you?"

"Just a butterbeer."

"Got it." She handed one to her. "So anything interesting happen while I was gone?"

Neville and Hermione shared a look. Neville smiled and said, "You have no idea."


	2. Snow

**Snow– Hermione is stressed out and Neville has a secret talent.**

Neville was getting worried about Hermione. They were studying in the library (silently of course– Hermione hated being disturbed), when he noticed something was wrong. Her hair looked wild. Her face looked tired. Her eyes were on the verge of tears, and unfortunately, that had become the norm. She had the largest coursework of any third-year, and it was clearly taking a toll on her. It was practically painful to watch.

The usual tactics weren't working. He had tried to sneak her some chocolate underneath the table. Since she grew up in a family of dentists and was rarely allowed sugar, she had a penchant for sweets. But she pushed it away. "Not hungry. But thanks." That was concerning; she almost never refused chocolate.

They continued working until Hermione put her head down and moaned. "I'm not smart enough for this."

"Aw, don't talk like that. You're the most talented witch I know."

"Well I certainly don't feel like it right now."

Neville knew he needed to act fast if he was going to help her. He slammed her book closed. "Ok. We're going." He took it and placed it in her bag.

"Hey! You can't just–" Madam Pince shushed her. "You can't just take my stuff," Hermione said more quietly.

"Try me. You need to get out of here." He continued packing up her things.

"No, I _need _to do this essay for Muggle Studies." She grabbed a textbook from him.

"Please?" It was a gamble. No one had ever interrupted Hermione working, much less stopped her entirely. But it absolutely crushed him to see her this upset. If she didn't take a break soon, she was going to crack entirely. And he cared about her too much to let that happen. "Just this once?"

"Fine. If it'll get you to stop nagging." She packed up the rest of her stuff and they left.

He had successfully gotten her to leave the library, but that was only half the battle. He needed a plan– something to cheer her up or get her to relax. But what? He had no time to think.

As they walked through the hall, Neville stared out the window. Fresh snow had fallen on the ground, and from the looks of it, it had a great consistency. Not frozen, not watery, the in-between that was perfect for snowball fights and snowmen. It was a shame that Hermione was just going to lock herself up in the common room all night, killing herself further with studying...No. They couldn't go back to Gryffindor Tower.

Neville took her hand and started leading her to the grounds. "We're not going that way."

"But this isn't the way to the common room."

"I know."

"Then where are we going?"

"You'll see. Now put your coat on."

"What?"

"Just trust me."

They made it outside. "You didn't answer the question. What are we doing?"

This was another gamble. She could hex him into the next century. She could storm off and refuse to speak to him again. But she could also have a really fun time, and she sure as hell deserved it. So before he had a chance to talk himself out of it, Neville had made a snowball and aimed it right at her back.

Hermione whipped her head around. She just stared at him, unsure of how she should react. If she were angry, she didn't show it, but she didn't seem interested in playing games. Spurred on by her lack of retaliation, Neville made another snowball. This time, he aimed at her shoulder. "Neville, I'm too old for snowball fights."

"Well I'm not, so I get to do this–" he threw a third snowball to her chest. "All I want!" This was the moment of truth. She could either take it or leave it. He threw another snowball, then another, then finally, _whack. _Hermione hit him in the head.

It hurt a little, but when he saw that Hermione was smiling he decided it was worth it. She started running, eager to gain some distance so she could make some new snowballs. Neville chased after her, and though he wasn't very fast, he definitely kept her on her toes. She was still smiling, having forgotten what it felt like to just _run, _and feel the wind in her hair, not worrying about anything else.

She turned around and realized that Neville was doubled over, coughing really badly. She ran back to him. "Are you al–" She got a face full of snow and Neville sprinted away.

"Thought you would be too smart to fall for that Ms. Hatstall."

"Thought you were too nice to play such dirty tricks, Other Hatstall."

"Never!"

The battle ensued. Hermione used magic to build a great snow fort, but it took awhile. By the time she was finished, Neville already had a stack of snowballs to pelt her with. And in her haste, the fort was weak, and it fell easily. Still, she could bewitch snowballs to hit Neville while she built her defense. It was a good strategy, as long as she could handle multi-tasking. She was pretty handy with a wand, and it felt more comfortable working with magic.

Neville, though inept at fighting with magic, was pretty good without it. Years of experience had trained him well, and he could create snowballs faster than he could conjure him. And even if he didn't have a fort for defense, he was pretty good at dodging too.

Eventually, Hermione gave up on using magic and they were face to face. "Didn't know," Hermione dodged. "You were so good at," she threw a new snowball, "This. Didn't think Augusta would let you play out in the snow." She was strict, and had all of these rules to make sure that Neville wouldn't dirty his nice clothes or embarrass himself around guests.

"No, we had this huge backyard," throw. "And my grandfather would take me outside." Dodge. Make new snowball. "This was probably one of the most normal things about my childhood."

After a twenty-minute battle of epic proportions, they both fell on the ground laughing and declared it a draw.


	3. The Howler

**Word: Mindless**

**Summary: After receiving a howler, Neville runs off in tears and Hermione searches for him.**

_The Howler_

"You mindless, foolish, senseless boy! It's a miracle you haven't lost that head on your shoulders." Neville knees felt shaky, and he felt a lump rising in his throat. He wasn't sure if he was going to throw up or faint, but he didn't want to find out. "You have brought shame upon the whole family!"

"This can't be happening," he muttered to himself. The rest of his grandmother's words flew at him from the red envelope, hitting him like knives and overcoming his thoughts. He wanted to ignore it, but the noise so loud it was unbearable. Neville swore that he could hear spit from all the yelling. And considering the echo of the entrance hall, he was sure everyone else could too. All of Hogwarts must have been able to hear Gran. (As if her yelling wasn't punishment enough.)

"Just wait until you get back here. I am going to–"

Neville's brain was swimming with the images of the other students, all sneering at him. He had never been more humiliated in his life. He had gotten himself locked out of his own common room, had been banned from Hogsmeade for the rest of the year, and had detention to look forward to. As if that weren't enough, he was scared because Sirius Black had infiltrated the school just after Gran had told him that Hogwarts was the safest place he could be. It was too much.

And before he could register what was going on, tears started to form in his eyes. But he couldn't show it– not unless he wanted to be teased further. The minute the howler was over, he tripped over himself running. He didn't know where he was going, he only knew he needed to get out of there as fast as possible. He needed to be far away, where no one would see him.

"Poor Neville…" Hermione said. Although she was sure other people felt sorry for him, all of the Slytherins were laughing, and everyone else either looked either angry or stoic. No one else actually seemed concerned for him, not even his friends. Maybe Dean and Seamus, but if they did, they didn't show it. Ron and Harry had been sitting with Neville, but they had already moved on to reading their mail. "Seamus?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah?" She could barely understand him because his mouth was full of food.

"Do you know where Neville has gone?"

Seamus shrugged. "Beats me." Aware Hermione had not understood him, he swallowed his food and said, "I don't know. Someplace quiet."

"Can you help me look for him?"

"But I'm eating."

"_Seamus,_" she narrowed her eyes.

"Oh alright." Hermione was pretty sure he only said that to get her to shut up. But that didn't matter as long as he helped out. "But why do you need _my_ help?"

"I need someone to check the boys bathroom. If you see him, let him know I'm looking for him."

She wasted no time. She didn't know exactly where to go, but she left the Hall and started brainstorming possible locations. She doubted Neville would be in the bathrooms– that'd be too obvious.

He'd probably make his way to the common room first, since that's a go-to alone place for lunch. But that would've stirred up bad memories, and he didn't know the passwords. So he would've backtracked someplace else. But where?

Somewhere where he could be alone, a place he enjoyed. The first place he could think of without it being overtly obvious to everyone (everyone but Hermione that is). She knew instantly where she had to go. And she took off sprinting.

"I knew you'd be here!"

He jumped in his seat when he heard the door open. "Oh. It's you." He turned away and crossed his arms. "Shouldn't you be eating or studying or...eating? Or...studying?"

"No, I'm fine here." And she sat in the chair next to him.

"How'd you find me?"

"Lucky guess. Are you alright?"

"Fine." He fiddled with one of the plants on the table, still not daring to look at her. She could read his emotions from a mile away, and his pride had been hurt enough recently.

"It was an honest mistake."

"No, I messed up. And now everyone hates me."

"That's not true."

"Oh it isn't?" He turned around, the frustration building from the past two days. No one understood how he felt or bothered to see things from his perspective. He felt guilty and stupid enough already, but people seemed to revel in adding to his misery. "Every time I walk in the halls I hear people laughing or giving me dirty looks. I can't stand it anymore."

"You made a mistake, you fessed up to it, and you won't do it again."

"And what if he comes back, huh? If Black got in once, he could do it again."

Hermione had run out of things to say. But she hated seeing Neville this way. He had done a terrible thing, but it was an accident, and she didn't think he deserved to be so upset. "I'm just trying to help." It was her turn to move a little away from him, suddenly worried she had made things worse.

"And I appreciate that, Hermione. Really, I do." He realized how rude he must've sounded, and he knew that Hermione didn't deserve to be shunned. But he didn't have the patience or the energy to act as if she were cheering him up. "The more I think about it the worse it gets, so I'd really like to focus on something else."

"Should I go?"

And Neville thought for a moment. Part of him wanted to be alone and not deal with anyone. But Hermione wasn't 'anyone.' She had always treated him nicely, and she put him in a good mood. Maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if he had company. "No. You can stay."

Hermione surveyed the room. "You picked a nice hiding spot." The greenhouse was Neville's safe haven, perhaps the one place at Hogwarts he hadn't felt humiliated or dumb. Of course he would've ended up there. "Professor Sprout doesn't lock her classroom during breakfast?"

"She does. I used alohomora." Hermione could see a little smile at the edge of his mouth.

"Perhaps Professor Flitwick would be proud, but I don't think Professor Sprout appreciates you breaking into her classroom," she joked.

"I'm sure it's fine." Neville didn't laugh, but he did appreciate her small attempt at humor. "Thanks for coming, by the way. Sorry about earlier, I was–"

"Don't worry about that," Hermione interrupted. "It was a rough morning." She wasn't really a big fan of hugs (physical contact in general made her feel awkward.) But it looked like Neville really needed one, and if she had to hug anyone, it would be him. So she reached her arms out and he folded into her.

It actually felt kind of nice, but it didn't last long because they heard someone clear their throat. Seamus had walked in on them. "Sorry, am I interrupting?" He was grinning from ear to ear.

That was annoying. It was bad enough when the girls joked she was dating Harry and Ron; she just wanted to be friends with guys in peace. "Nope," she said, but her face was crimson red.

"Just thought you'd like to know, class starts in ten minutes."

"Right then. Let's go." Hermione and Neville stood up from their chairs and started heading out with Seamus. "Feeling any better?" she asked.

"Yeah, thanks."

When Hermione was out of earshot, Seamus whispered to Neville, "So you and Hermione?"

"Are friends," Neville said quickly. But if he were being honest, wouldn't it be nice if they were more than that? "Just really good friends."


	4. Lattes are Not My Thing

Prompt: Cream

Description: Neville's high school crush is now a regular at his coffee shop, but another barista might get in the way of his second chance. (Takes place in Muggle World)

_Lattes are not my Thing_

Day 1

"Neville?" It had been about five years since she had graduated from Hogwarts. Now she was working on an internship in local government, but as much as she loved it, it was causing her grief. She didn't have free time to spend with her co-workers, much less old friends from high school. And now, she couldn't believe her luck that one of them was right in front of her.

"Hermione," he beamed. "What can I get for you?"

Hermione suddenly remembered that she was in a coffee shop. "Uh, small coffee. With cream."

"You got it." He made her the coffee and pushed it across the table. "That'll be one-fifty."

She handed him two pounds. As he gave her the change she asked, "What are you doing here? I thought you were at basic training" It wasn't like her to chat up the barista, but the place was practically empty and there was a spot at the counter for her to sit at. Besides, this wasn't just any barista. It was Neville.

"I decided it wasn't for me. Ron and I left at the same time." Hermione couldn't say that she was surprised. They were both highly capable of joining the military, but it was by no means an easy job. "So I went back to school and I'm studying to be a science teacher."

"Oh right. You've always liked botany. Are you thinking about getting a PhD?"

"Me? Dr. Longbottom? That's the name of a cartoon villain."

"I think Professor Longbottom has a nice ring to it."

"I guess so," he smiled. His name had been the butt of so many jokes as a kid, but now he was laughing along with them. "So what about you? Any plans for world domination?"

"No. Unless you count filing papers and fetching morning lattes," Hermione shook her head.

"Really? Always thought you'd be halfway to Parliament by now."

"That's the dream."

"But you come here for morning lattes? I've never seen you here."

"My coworkers have no taste. They go to Starbucks."

"Oi! Neville!" someone yelled. He had a deep, booming voice. "Stop flirting with the customers." That promptly caused Neville to blush. An extremely attractive man with the right amount of stubble and big, muscley arms came out of the backroom. "But I don't blame you," he said catching Hermione's eye. And suddenly her cheeks were bright red.

"Sorry, Cormac."

Hermione checked her watch. "It's about time I get going anyway. Can't be late." Despite how hot it was, she chugged down the rest of her coffee. "It was nice catching up with you, Neville. I hope to see you two around. Bye!"

"Have a good day!" Neville said. But she was already out the door.

"That girl...what's her name?"

"Hermione."

"Hermione. That's a nice name. Is she seeing anyone?"

Neville knew that if he said yes, Cormac would start flirting with her. But if he said no, that would be lying. "No..." He tried his best not to sound too hesitant. "She's single."

Cormac smiled, and Neville knew he was definitely going to go after her.

Day 2

That day, Hermione came in while Neville was in the back taking stock. Cormac was manning the counter. Neville returned to see him sliding two drinks to Hermione. "I didn't order a latte," she said.

"It's on me."

"Well...thank you." She was slightly taken aback, but she gave him a smile. "Neville! Hi." She sat in her usual spot at the counter, with her computer out, and Neville walked over to her.

"I was just talking to Hermione about last night's rugby game. We won, obviously."

"That's great, Cormac. Hi, Hermione." He looked down at the drink. "It's a heart."

"Yeah. Do you do latte art too?"

"No. I tried to learn, but the last time I tried it came out as...something inappropriate."

Neville immediately panicked, worried he had said too much. But Hermione started laughing, and Neville joined in. "Ha, nice."

He looked at her computer. "What are you working on there?"

"I'm not taking too much space am I?"

"No, I'm just curious."

Hermione was excited (and surprised) that someone had asked her about her work. "My boss is letting me look over one of her proposals. Just for grammar of course; I don't get to express my ideas yet. But it's a step in the right direction."

"That's awesome!"

"So how's school?"

"I'm taking this really interesting class on the history of plants in–"

"Neville!" Cormac interrupted. Neville was annoyed. Hermione had actually seemed interested in what he was saying. "You need to stock up on chocolate syrup."

"I just did."

"Did you set up the frappe section?"

"No…"

"Then get on that."

Day 3

Cormac, once again, was in charge of Hermione's coffee. "Did you get my message on it?" he asked.

"Yeah, it was nice," Hermione said. Neville could read a message on the coffee cup: _You're cute_. (So much for not flirting with customers.)

Neville also noticed that the coffee cup was larger than usual. "A medium," he said. "Long day?"

"Yeah." And he noticed just how tired she looked. "My boss is really on my case. The proposal was more work than I thought."

"I know you can do it."

"Everyone says that."

"No, but, I really mean it. I've known you since we were eleven, I saw you struggle through A-levels, college exams, everything. You're definitely ready for this."

"Thanks, Neville. I really appreciate it." This time she gave a genuine smile– her first one in a long time. She couldn't stay at the shop to drink the coffee this time since she had to go back to the office right away. But it was nice to see her, even just a little bit.

The next week followed in a similar fashion. Neville looked forward to seeing Hermione every morning. She always came in first thing, before the morning rush, so they had a chance to talk. (Though their conversations were always cut short by Cormac assigning him some meaningless task.) He didn't give her free lattes anymore, but he drew hearts and cute messages on the cup like _You have a nice smile_ or _Have a good day!_ They seemed to make Hermione happy, because Neville noticed that she beamed when she received her drink– always a small coffee with cream.

If Neville were being honest, he was a little jealous. He refused to admit he had feelings for her, reminding himself that they weren't fourteen anymore and that she was obviously only interested in him as a friend. He would have to live with that.

But it proved harder than he thought. One day, a group of girls from Hermione's office came in for an afternoon pick-me-up. "Hermione says the coffee is just okay. Everyone knows she only comes to stare at the cute barista." Cormac appeared from the back and started wiping the counter. The girls, not very subtly, stared at him. "And I can see why."

Neville's heart sank. His worst fear had been confirmed. Of course she would fall for Cormac. Who wouldn't? With his fancy latte art and award-worthy dimples and rugby accomplishments. Neville wished he were better at rugby.

"I hear she's finally going to ask him out tomorrow."

Neville knew that Cormac was only interested in getting into Hermione's pants and that he would probably break her heart at the first opportunity. Cormac couldn't appreciate someone as smart or as strong as her, at least not in the way Neville could. But he told himself that if Cormac said yes, he had to be happy for her. As one of Hermione's oldest friends, it was his duty to try to be as happy for them as possible.

The next day, Hermione came into the coffee shop at the usual time. She looked nervous. Neville, not wanting to make things awkward, went to the backroom. "Cormac?" she asked. Neville could still hear them.

"Yeah?" He looked so hopeful; he had definitely heard what the girls had said yesterday.

Neville was leaning against the wall trying his best to ignore the conversation. What had he expected anyway? He was just a boring coffee with cream. Cormac was a latte– there was no competition.

"Do you know where Neville is?"

He perked up at his name. He was so confused. What did she want him for? Wouldn't she want to ask Cormac out alone? "I'm here," he said, coming out of the room.

"I know we've only reconnected for a few weeks. But we've been friends for a long time before that. And there's an outdoor concert tonight. I was wondering if...You wanted to go with me? As a date?" At least she was direct. But Neville's mouth hung open. He had not expected that from Hermione. Was he dreaming? His high school crush actually liked him back?

"Answer her, man!" Cormac said, looking annoyed that his own crush wasn't reciprocated.

Neville had been radio silent for about ten seconds; Hermione was almost ready to retract the offer from embarrassment. But before she could, he managed to blurt out "I'd love to!"

Hermione looked relieved. "Great! Here's the flyer." She pushed it to him across the counter. "I'll see you there. Oh, and can I get small coffee with cream?"

"No latte?"

"They're nice and all. But I think I'll stick to coffee with cream."


End file.
